Fidelius
by The Magnificent Kiwi
Summary: A story of four friends, one betrayal, and those who stayed faithful to the end. Moments from the lives of the Marauders from the tragedy that split them to the victory that brought them together again.
1. Perditus

**AN - **Just a little something I wanted to write, basically a collection of scenes from the lives of the Marauders. I only meant it to be a oneshot, but it became quite long so I have split it into chapters based on the time each little part is set. For this particular one - Hallowe'en 1981. There should only be two or three chapters, and they will probably (hopefully!) be shorter than this. Please leave a review if you read, and leave some feedback :). I'm thinking about continuing something I've started based in Hogwarts time (aka a bit cheerier and lighter!) if this is successful!

* * *

**Fidelius**

_1. Perditus_

It was strange how little felt different when the spell was complete. Honestly, James had not known what to expect. Were they truly hidden? Was it really done?

Peter trembled on the settee, unable to look either of them in the eye. He had been rather nervous throughout this whole ordeal, and no amount of assurance that he was perhaps in the safest position of them all seemed to help.

Barely ten minutes had passed when a familiar figure became visible in the street outside. The man in question turned on the spot, taking in every building in the area, it seemed, but the one they resided in. James even waved amicably, drawing the curtains back far enough that he should have been in plain view. His friend stood mere inches from their gate yet was apparently oblivious.

'You better go out there, Peter,' he said. Immediately, Peter rose to his feet and made for the front door.

'There's your proof,' Lily said softly, smiling at the sight that seemed to have James transfixed. He turned to her, and the fear and trepidation that had enslaved him these past few days alleviated. They were safe. Harry was safe.

The infant murmured softly to himself, shaking his mother's wand in his chubby hand as she held him gently to her.

'How long until he starts setting the curtains on fire?' he wondered aloud. Lily smiled, though her eyes darted warily to the wand and then to the curtains as the front door opened and voices spilled into the hallway.

'Safe to say, I think it worked,' Peter said as he rejoined them in the living room.

'Either that or whatever charms Dumbledore cast yesterday did the trick.'

'No, it worked.' James turned to the new arrival, a horribly familiar mix of happiness and worry falling over him at the sight of his best friend. Paranoia had gotten to them all, but none so much as Sirius Black. Though it seemed nothing could dull the handsome edge to his looks, lack of sleep had loaned a few more shadows to his features and he had yet to find the weight that had been lost in recent months. 'When I tried to think of the address, I couldn't quite recall the particulars. Like a memory that's faded enough to be unfamiliar, but bold enough to know it's still there. As soon as Peter told me, the house seemed to spring from the grass.'

He offered a smile to his married friends.

'Is it safe to assume that I am the first?'

'Yes. When Remus returns from-'

'No!' Sirius' voice was sharp. James wanted to argue, but had learned by now that it was futile. There was a spy amongst their ranks; they had to be careful, he knew this. But Sirius' distrust had reached the point where he no longer trusted one of his best friends. Remus had never given him reason doubt, but with the growing reports of werewolf attacks, with the long assignments their friend would disappear on, during which there would often be an attack or intervention which suggested a leak of information... It had not been an easy process, and he had watched Padfoot tearfully fight his suspicions, but in the end the fear and paranoia had won.

'At the very least, we should tell Dumbledore,' Lily said. 'Someone in the Order needs to know, to keep us updated.'

They all murmured their agreement.

'Have Peter write it down,' James said. 'But Sirius, you deliver it. There is no reason to risk putting Peter in danger by revealing what he is.'

Peter smiled gratefully as he reached into his pocket for writing materials - it was a good thing James had thought to remind him to bring some, what with the state their current belongings were in. He handed a small, folded piece of parchment to Sirius before stashing the rest of his supplies back into his pocket.

'I, uh...I should go now,' he said. 'Lot to sort out. Never been one for long goodbyes.'

A strange darkness seemed to spread through James' chest as he approached his friend to place a hand upon his shoulder.

'Thank you, Peter. When this is all over...' He did not know how to finish that sentence. When would it be all over? Would they still be young? Would they even be alive? Their active role in this war was over. Their duty now was to protect their son.

The appreciation seemed to cause Peter some measure of discomfort, but he smiled again anyway, and turned to leave.

'I'll come check on you soon,' Sirius said as he passed. 'Make sure you're all right. If there's anything you need, you let me know.'

A quick mutter of 'thanks', and Peter was gone.

'What about you, Sirius?'

What he wanted to say was 'don't go'. The months since they had gone into hiding had been long and lonely, and the only member of the Order who seemed to understand this was Sirius. Whenever duty did not pull him away, he was there, in whatever way the Potters needed him. Often, this was just with a few bottles of butterbeer (and the occasional firewhiskey when Lily and Harry were elsewhere) and old memories. Had it not been for his dear friend, James was fairly certain he would have lost his mind and gone completely stir crazy by now.

'Same plan,' Sirius said. 'Not sure where I'm going yet other than 'away', but...'

Had it just been his own life at stake, James was fairly certain he would have stayed (not that James would have let him). But there was too much at risk here, and they all knew the lengths to which Sirius would go to protect them. So long as he stayed hidden, so long as Voldemort hunted him, the others would be safe.

'We will never be able to thank you enough, Sirius,' said Lily. 'Truly.'

'Just keep this one safe,' Sirius said, stroking Harry's flyaway hair. Then he pulled both mother and son into his arms, the boy's laughter muffled between them. 'Take care of yourself, Lily.'

The blackness in James' chest seemed to spread as Sirius turned to him, and he knew from one look in those grey eyes that he was not the only one who did this with some reluctance. He returned the embrace enthusiastically, his grip only slightly looser than his friend's.

'You've done so much for me, Prongs. I could never thank you enough.'

'Stop talking like this is goodbye.'

As Sirius pulled back, he attempted a smile, though it fell short at his eyes. James knew then that he expected not to live through this.

'I will come see you again,' Sirius promised. 'Before I leave. I'll bring your mirror and if there's no activity for some time, I'll-'

'Don't risk coming back. As good as it will be to see you, I'd much rather know that you were safe.'

'Regardless...I'll come to say goodbye before I go.'

He began to take steps towards the door, struggling to project even the idea of a smile.

'I'm going to miss you, brother.'

* * *

The fun of Hallowe'en seemed to die after Hogwarts. It was strange how safe things had seemed within those walls, how far away the war outside them felt. Leaving had been a shock. And just look at the muggles. They didn't have a clue of the danger around them. To them, there was no war.

Sirius smiled at a group of children that skipped past, plastic cauldrons swinging from their hands as the wind whipped around them.

There was an old, deserted store on the corner, the flat above which was invisible to non-magical eyes. It was the perfect place for a hideout - inconspicuous to those who knew it was there.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, Sirius cast a brief glance at his surroundings before tapping the door handle with his wand and slipping inside. The interior of the store was bare, save for a few cobwebs and peeling wallpaper. The smell of mould and ages seemed to evaporate as he crossed another doorway and climbed the tidy stairs beyond. There was no light upstairs, and no creaking of floorboards; Peter must be asleep. Alas, this was something he had promised, and something he needed to do. His old friend could forgive an interrupted slumber.

But when he reached the floor above, the room was empty, curtains wide open to the moonlight as raindrops tapped against the glass. The blue light cast a haunting glow over an almost picture-perfect scene. Books neatly lined a small shelf by the bed, photographs propped on the desk beneath it. The bed itself had perhaps not been slept in for days; Peter's night clothes lay folded on the sheets.

There was a strange ringing in his ears, growing louder every second. Peter was to never leave this place after dark, he would not have left willingly, and yet there seemed to be no disturbance, nothing to suggest that he had been dragged from it.

The ringing grew louder, that paranoid voice in the back of his mind whispering a theory he was too afraid to attend to. Peter had known that he was coming. He should have been here. Unless...

'James!'

Sirius sprinted down the stairs and burst through the front door. In a matter of seconds, he found his way back to his parked motorcycle, swung his leg over and took off as fast as it would take him. He did not even care to check for clearance before he raised it from the ground, finding cover in the darkness above. The light of the muggle towns below sped by until the patterns they formed became familiar.

Carefully, he pressed the motorcycle down, breaking through the clouds and pressing down into Godric's Hollow.

The streets were still empty, though curious eyes gazed through the curtains of nearby windows.

Sirius leapt from his bike and his legs almost gave way. There it was, the Potters' home, smouldering like a spent cigarette.

The ringing suddenly stopped, as every detail of the house slammed into his senses like a thousand splinters. He knew then how wrong he had been. Remus was no spy. It was Peter. It was Peter all along, and now...

Trembling hands rose to windswept hair, his jaw trembled. That hole...Harry's nursery. He barely registered the large man at the gate, nor the shrill cry of an infant tearing into the night.

'Sirius?' said Hagrid. 'What're- No, Sirus, yeh don' want teh-'

But he was gone, bounding through the gate, almost tripping on the doorstep. And in the blink of an eye, Sirius Black's world fell apart.

His legs collapsed beneath him, bringing him to the floor in the briefest of heartbeats. Frantic hands gripped the sweater, fingers roamed to check for a pulse. But he knew before he tried, knew from the clammy skin and stony gaze...James Potter was dead.

'Lily!' he roared, wrenched from his friend's body. He bounded up the stairs, skipping some, tripping on others. There was no roof over the nursery, the doorway had collapsed, dust littering the carpet. And there she was, as still as her husband, slumped in front of the empty cot. There was blood on the sheets, though only a little, and not a foot from her...a pile of black robes, a fallen wand. He could see out onto the street from up there, could almost smell the magic that lingered on the air.

He could not stand it any more, slumped mournfully down the stairs. A terrible pain had overcome him, almost drew him back to the body that waited at the bottom. It was as though all the meaning had been torn from life, as though his world had crumbled with the bricks of his godson's nursery.

Hagrid waited outside, his face red, eyes bloodshot. He seemed to see the tears before Sirius felt them for he had a hand to offer, had silent sympathy that seemed to no nothing to dull the ache within.

'I'm sorry,' said the larger man. 'He found 'em. He found 'em an'... It's not a fair price ter pay, but he's gone. He's gone, Sirius, an' they would've died happy knowin' tha'.'

It was little comfort, but it was all he had. The image of those robes resurfaced, of the wand that lay as though discarded on the nursery floor. And suddenly, the urge to run back in there overcame him. The urge to race up those stairs, to snap that wand in two and scream to the stars.

'Harry survived,' said Hagrid, his voice breaking through the obsessive thought, clearing away the mental fog that had descended upon him. And the cries that still rang around them suddenly seemed to emanate from the arms of Rubeus Hagrid. 'I don' know how, but he did. Poor little thing.'

Sirius looked down into the eyes of his godson, and the cries seemed to ease, though not stop completely. Finally, a familiar face for the frightened child. There was a smear of blood upon his forehead, and Sirius raised his wand to it, cleaned away what he could. A large cut, roughly the shape of a lightning bolt, was visible where the stain had once been. It was not deep, but as the mark of a curse it would never fade.

He knew what he had to do, knew what James would have wanted him to do.

'Give him to me, Hagrid,' he said. 'I'm his godfather. I'll take care of him.'

But Hagrid frowned and shook his head lightly.

'Can' do that, I'm afraid,' he said. 'Dumbledore wants him to go ter his family.'

His family? Surely he couldn't mean Lily's sister, the magic-hating muggle and her equally closed-minded husband?

'_I'm_ his family, Hagrid! If anything happened to them, they wanted me to take care of him!'

The desperation in his voice surprised even him. He needed to do this, needed to honour the request James made of him the moment he asked him to be godfather. It was all he had left.

'Dumbledore's orders-'

'Screw Dumbledore's orders! You think those muggles will take care of him? I'm the only real family he has left! Hagrid, you know how much I loved-' the word seemed to stick in his throat, past tense sounded so wrong '-Lily and James! Who will take better care of him than me?'

It was clear in Hagrid's eyes that part of him agreed - if James and Lily had trusted Sirius enough to name him godfather, then he would provide a good home for the boy. But Hagrid was Dumbledore's man through and through. The boy would go to his Aunt and Uncle's, and Sirius would go to St. Mungo's if he tried to stop him.

Defeated, Sirius stepped away. The pain, momentarily held at bay, rushed back with an almighty force. Somewhere in its midst, the truth sang loud and clear and that dreadful reality sank in. Suddenly, all he knew was anger.

'Take it,' he said weakly, gesturing to his bike. 'Take the bike. It's safe, it's fast...'

Hagrid seemed uncertain.

'Are yeh sure?'

'Just get him there safe. I...I won't be needing it any more.'

It was as though the words filled him with new found strength and purpose. With a farewell to young Harry, and good luck to his guardian, he watched his bike speed off into the night. Only when it was out of sight did he turn, a murderous vengeance on his mind.

* * *

There were not many muggles on the street as he pressed his way onward, a fact for which he was not as thankful as he ordinarily would have been. The more muggles, the easier he could blend in with them.

Peter Pettigrew wiped his sweaty hands against his robes, trembling still. The Dark Lord was gone, he had seen it with his own eyes. Only a pile of robes and a wand - a wand which he had been lucky enough to rescue before the Ministry descended upon the scene. And what about the boy? There were only two bodies in the house.

And then it dawned upon him. The prophecy... Had he fulfilled it with his actions? If the Dark Lord was indeed gone, and word on the street was to be believed, then Harry Potter had indeed vanquished him, without so much as raising a finger.

Of course, they wouldn't see it that way. They would see it as Peter Pettigrew, the double crosser who double-crossed the Dark Lord. They would not believe that he was sincere in his actions, that he had meant for the boy to die that night. James had been his friend, true, but things had gotten out of hand. The others, they could not protect him like they had in school. Order members were dropping like flies, just how far down the list had his name been?

Lily and James had refused to join the Dark Lord's side, even Sirius had left the messengers sent for him limping back to their master, wrong in their assumption that they would have better luck with a Black. They had not approached Remus, but his response would have been the same. But Peter...he had never been as brave as them, had never been able to fight for himself. When the invitation came his way, it felt almost overdue. Protection of the highest degree - it was the only way he would survive this war.

What was he to do now? Would the Order protect him? Of course not. The first thing Sirius would have done would be to tell them the truth...that he was the one who betrayed the Potters. He would be hauled straight to Azkaban.

For the first time in his life, he was really, truly alone.

A dog barked in the distance and he jumped, shaking from head to toe. Every hair on his body stood on end and he turned suddenly. He had to get out of here.

A man dressed in wizarding robes stood at the end of the street, perfectly still, as though waiting for something...or someone. Fear seemed to root Peter to the spot as he approached, slowly, as though calculating with every step. It was not the Death Eaters that had found him. Not even the Order...it was Sirius Black.

Peter ran, but the bricks of the alleyway towards which he darted suddenly multiplied, constructing a wall that blocked the only obvious route of escape.

'Hello Peter,' said Sirius, close enough now that Peter could see the pure hatred etched upon his face. There was a wild look in his eyes, almost maniacal, and a definite air of destructive rage about him.

'S-Sirius,' Peter gasped. 'Come to-to take me to Azkaban?'

'Azkaban?' His voice was calm and quiet at first. 'After what you did to them? I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, PETER!'

Flinching with fear, a sliver of realisation dawned upon Peter. Sirius had not relayed the truth of the Fidelius Charm and the Potters's betrayal to Dumbledore, had perhaps not even spoken to another person since he had found the wreckage of their house. Oh yes, he had seen the house, had seen their bodies. Nothing could have forced such an expression of diabolical loathing into the eyes of Sirius Black. Perhaps the madness of his cousin was a family trait.

A plan suddenly formed in Peter's desperate mind. It was not a good one, was perhaps not even one that would work, but it was all he had.

A crowd had gathered around them, perhaps thinking that a couple of nutters had decided to extend Hallowe'en. Peter's wand was behind his back now, his hand having dived instinctively into his pocket the moment Sirius had appeared.

'Lily and James, Sirius!' he screamed, tears of terror streaming down his cheeks. 'How could you!'

Confusion fell upon the other man's tired yet handsome features. It was the last thing he saw before the light blinded him, the force of the blast knocking him off his feet. Dust hung thick upon the air, muggles screaming as they clambered through the ruins of the street. Within seconds, he had raised his wand to his hand and watched in muted agony as a solitary finger fell to the ground.

The screams continued as the world spun around him. Engulfed by his robes, wand falling from rapidly shrinking fingers, he bounded into the stench of the sewers, Sirius's psychotic laughter ringing out above.

* * *

There were many dark moments in Remus Lupin's life. But none quite stung the way that day did.

The world seemed awfully silent for all the celebration. The mission was called off. The war was over. Voldemort was gone and in their confusion the Death Eaters were becoming reckless - already almost half a dozen had been rounded up by the aurors, if reports were to be believed.

Try as he might, he could not bring himself to join the festivities. Because the cost at which victory had come was too personal, too great. He could feel nothing beyond the numb sense of despair around him.

James and Lily were dead.

Even now, repeating those words felt almost taboo.

There was a murmur of movement downstairs. A new arrival, no doubt. He couldn't even bring himself to care who it was.

So many years longing for friendship, and the friends he had found were the best in the world, he never doubted that. And now they were gone.

Why? James had believed his secret to be safe in Sirius. They all had. The obvious truth was too painful to dwell on. There must have been another explanation. Perhaps the Death Eaters had found Sirius, perhaps they had found a way to extract the information. There was no way he would have betrayed them, no fathomable explanation as to why-

A sharp knock on the door preceded the entrance of Albus Dumbledore. Strange how Remus had never been less happy to see him.

'Remus-'

'How did it happen?' he wanted to know. 'How did...'

Dumbledore frowned as he took the seat opposite, igniting the fire with a quick prod of his wand.

'Sirius Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper-'

'Sirius would never have betrayed them. He'd have died first, we both would have.'

It was denial now, plain and simple stubborn denial.

'Then perhaps the Potters would have been better to place their faith in you.'

Silence lingered between them before Dumbledore spoke again.

'We all misjudged Sirius,' he said, almost mournfully. 'We all thought that we knew him. A proud, noble, loyal soul...'

Loyal to the wrong people, it seemed.

'Is there any way the Death Eaters...'

He could not even finish the question. But Dumbledore shook his head gently.

'It is old magic, but very powerful and very much foolproof. They could have tortured him, blackmailed him, cursed him...they could even enslave him through the Imperius curse or slip Veritaserum into his tea... The information must be divulged of one's own accord, willingly and without coercion.'

Remus had been so certain that he had known Sirius. Then again, so had James.

'I am afraid that I do not come here bearing good news,' Dumbledore continued. 'After James and Lily...I did not wish for you to hear this on the street, so to speak.'

He had spoken so calmly it made Remus wonder from where he drew the strength. Was it another form of old magic? Or had the old man simply experienced so much tragedy in his life that it barely ruffled him any more.

Remus nodded, inviting him to continue.

'Sirius was apprehended not two hours ago. He has been taken to Azkaban, where he is to serve a life sentence for his crimes against society...and those he purportedly loved.'

So soon? No trial? Remus found it hard to care. It was more than he deserved.

'How is Peter?'

Silence again, for a moment too long.

'It seems that Peter took the deaths of James a Lily a little hard. We believe he tracked down Sirius for revenge.'

That icy feeling in his lungs spread. Sirius was ten times the wizard Peter was...in a duel, poor Wormtail did not stand a chance.

'He's dead, isn't he?'

'Remus, I am truly sorry.'

Remus bowed his head, slumped forward in the chair as grief washed over him unrelentingly. A boy with nothing but a curse, gifted something wonderful...and now it was gone. They were all gone. James, Lily, Peter...dead. Sirius rotting in jail. The fact that justice had been served did absolutely nothing.

'Harry lives,' said Dumbledore, and the faintest light shone through the clouds. Their deaths had not been in vain.

The descending darkness took with it the last of his strength, a comforting hand on his shoulder all that told him that he was still of this world.

* * *

The wind howled, icy air numbing everything left of him to numb. His wand was gone, robes gone, hope...gone.

At the very least, he had expected a trial, a chance to explain what had happened, to let the world know that Peter Pettigrew was a spy and traitor, that Lily and James Potter lay dead, little Harry orphaned, because of him. But now Peter was dead too, and with his final act he saw to it that his revenge would be enacted on the last two Marauders: without James's money, without Sirius's support...what was to become of Remus?

Wormtail had destroyed them all.

It didn't quite set in where he was going until they had hauled him to the Ministry. They were barely there when word came: they knew what had happened, there was to be no trial, no mercy. Seconds later, there they were, and so were the guards. He was stripped of his wand, of his own robes, of everything left to identify him as Sirius Black.

It was the howls that brought the first pangs of fear, the mutterings of the other inmates. Then when the Patronuses of his escorts vanished with them... He screamed, he pleaded, he tried to break down the door. But still, bit by bit, the happiness left him, hope fading with it. Nobody would listen to him.

But he was innocent. He knew that much. And somehow, the Dementors did not affect that thought. They left it alone, left it to fester within. And over and over again, he would repeat the same old mantra.

'I am Sirius Black. Twenty-two years old. Gryffindor. I am innocent.'

'I am...Gryffindor. Black. Twenty-Two. I am innocent.'

'Black...twenty...Gryffindor...'

_'I am innocent.'_


	2. Canis et Lupus

**An -** So this one turned out to be a bit longer than I'd planned. A huge thank you to mooray and the guest for the reviews! I really appreciate them :). One more chapter to go after this. Again, feedback is most appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Fidelius**

_2. Canis et Lupus_

Exhausted and weak, the dog collapsed against the rocks, the sound of nearby waves almost lulling him to sleep. For the most part, the crossing had been smooth, though he was amazed he had made it to dry land - he had almost drowned out there. Sheer determination, fuelled by obsession, was what had driven him. But he was weak, and exhausted.

Barely able to move, the scent of food roused him and he limped further onto the beach. A family played nearby, tossing a Frisbee between them. They did not show any signs of noticing as the dog took the picnic hamper in its teeth and hauled it to a nearby cave.

It was a man who tore through it, skinny and malnourished, long black hair matted against tattered grey robes. He wolfed down the contents of the basket as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. He paused often, to stare at the damp wall ahead.

The air felt distinctly warmer here. Even his thoughts...

He savoured the taste of the food against his tongue, felt his thirst sate quite comfortably as he poured the contents of a can down his throat. And one by one, they started to return. Memories. Feelings. Relief washed over him and he laughed tearfully. The date on the Daily Prophet told him that he had spent roughly twelve years within those walls, though it felt so much longer.

Twelve years without peaceful emotion, without even a sliver of happiness in his mind...it almost hurt as it all came flooding back, as though it had been just out of reach this whole time.

He had rested well in the days leading up to his escape - he had made sure of that. After the food was washed down and his limbs ached a little less, he left the cave as a dog and made his way up into the seaside town.

News was already on the street about the escape of the infamous Sirius Black. One muggle lady even complained about the fiend as she fed sausages to the big black dog in a café, unaware that she was stroking the head of the very man of who she spoke so lowly.

Sirius focused on his destination, knowing of the long journey ahead. As a dog, it would be easier and maybe even quicker. He had not apparated in so long, he wasn't entirely sure he was still able to do it. At the very least, he did not fancy the risk of getting splinched. So much depended on him. Justice...Harry.

He found that his thoughts often turned to his godson, and a strange longing burned within. How different would life have been if Hagrid had given Harry to him? Would he still have spent time in Azkaban? Or would the truth of Wormtail's betrayal got out, would he have raised Harry as though he were his own child, showering him in love, raising him to know the wizarding world?

Of course...

The Dursleys. Never ones for change, perhaps they still lived in Surrey?

He stole a phonebook when he arrived, a sigh of relief breathed when there turned out to be only one V. & P. Dursley living there. A quiet suburban street in Little Whinging - perfect.

Sirius had not planned out all too well how he was to go about his plan, but he continued on to Little Whinging nonetheless, pinning hope on the fact that it was the summer holidays and Harry would hopefully be at home.

It was night time when he arrived, and the streets were deserted. It was getting late, there was little chance of seeing him tonight. And so he formulated a plan, one that involved him sleeping somewhere hidden nearby before making his way to Privet Drive for daybreak. When Harry left the house, he could see him, know that he was okay and...and then he would leave.

Part of him knew that he was being silly, delaying his trip north just to get a glimpse of his godson; they were both heading to the same place. But somehow, he just felt that he had to see the boy. Perhaps it would give him the strength needed to see his aim through.

There was a dark alleyway in Magnolia Crescent that suited his needs and he curled up beside a large bin. If anyone saw him, they would assume that he was a stray.

But something caught his attention not long after he had settled down. The unmistakeable trundle of a large trunk - a school trunk, perhaps. Sirius was confused. Term was not due to start for some time still. He edged cautiously down the alley, watched a boy open a definite school trunk and rifle through the contents.

Could it be? Little Whinging was perhaps the least wizarding place he had ever set foot (or paw) in - what were the chances of there being another family with school-aged children here?

The boy turned suddenly, squinting into the darkness, and Sirius almost yelped in astonishment.

He could have been looking at James Potter. Indeed, if he had not known that such a thing was not possible, he would have believed that's who was standing before him.

The boy lit his wand and held it up. Sirius felt the light fall over him, wanted to run out, to ask him what he was doing wandering alone at night with his school trunk. The last time he had known anyone do that...well, it was the night he ran away from home all those years ago.

Harry seemed surprised, perhaps even frightened to see the animal staring back at him. He stepped back, seemed to lose his footing and flew backwards, wand falling from his hand. Almost immediately, a deafening bang filled the street and even the dog started. The purple Knight Bus blocked Harry from view.

The bus would take him where he needed to go. He was alright.

With sudden urgency, Sirius took the opportunity to flee, dashing over the gardens of Magnolia Crescent and out of sight. It wasn't until he heard the second bang in the distance, as the Knight Bus disappeared, that he slowed his pace, heart pounding.

A renewed sense of purpose filled him. Harry was okay, he was alive, he was healthy.

A debt he had promised to collect pushed him onwards through Little Whinging. Hogwarts awaited...and so too did revenge.

* * *

There was a knock at the door just after eight o'clock. Remus jumped, torn from the newspaper article he perused. To say that he was not used to guests was an understatement. Truthfully, he did not believe that anyone other than his father knew where he lived, so often did he move.

It was with a cautious step and wand in hand that he answered it. Even after Voldemort's defeat, old habits were hard to shake. Born into a world at war, the notion of living in peacetime was a difficult one to adjust to.

The light from within his home reflected off the white beard and half-moon spectacles of Albus Dumbledore, who smiled at Remus like an old friend.

'Evening, Remus,' he said. 'May I come in?'

A swell of something long-forgotten blossomed in his chest as he smiled eagerly and stepped aside to let his old headmaster inside.

'Dumbledore,' he greeted amicably. 'I...What a pleasant surprise. It must be-

'Twelve years,' Dumbledore finished, eyes twinkling. 'You are a difficult man to keep track of, Remus.'

Though he felt as though he should explain, he did not. Dumbledore would have known all too well how difficult it was to get by with his condition. The longest he had managed to keep a job was a little over two months. Even so, a wave of embarrassment washed over him as Dumbledore's eyes took in the worn, dilapidated appearance of his home. He never saw the point in sprucing his dwellings up - he was never there for long.

'Better this way,' he settled for. 'Please, take a seat.'

The older man found the armchair by the empty fireplace. If the threadbare condition of the furniture bothered him, he did not let on.

He had not seen Dumbledore since the early days of peacetime. The Order of the Phoenix was disbanded in the wake of the events of that Hallowe'en night, and Remus had sought to distance himself from everything. Even twelve years later, the grief still lingered.

'Nice place you have here,' said Dumbledore politely.

'It does it's job. Looking for the next if I'm being honest. Getting harder and harder to find a way to put food on the table.'

That was the part the wolf did not like. Sometimes, he would go days living on simple bread and water so that he could have a full meal before he transformed. The wolf was violent enough on a full stomach - letting it out hungry was just foolish.

'I take it you're here because of...' His voice caught in his throat. Even now, saying his name felt taboo.

'Because of...?'

Was he really going to make him say it?

'I don't know where he is, Dumbledore,' he said with a sigh. 'If I did, I'd hardly be serving him a cup of tea. Speaking of which...'

'If you don't mind, thank you, Remus.'

Escaping to the kitchen, Remus busied himself with the kettle, igniting flames beneath it with a tap of his wand. An old edition of the Daily Prophet lay beside it on the bench, a painfully familiar face blinking up at him. Were it not for the headline, he may not have believed that it was his old friend. Once handsome and full of life, his face now suffered from the decade he had spent at the mercy of the Dementors. It was a cruel fate, but no less than he deserved. Hard to believe he could harbour such bitterness and hatred towards a man whom he once held so much affection for.

Dumbledore accepted his tea with thanks.

'I come in a bit of a difficult situation,' he said. 'You have no doubt heard of my bad run with Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers?'

'I heard the last one is still in St. Mungo's?'

'Indeed he is. Unfortunate circumstance, but completely of his own doing.'

Remus sipped from his cup, a thousand potential conversations running through his mind. There was much he would have liked to have known, but Dumbledore would not have sought him out without purpose.

'You always excelled at that subject,' Dumbledore noted. 'Peter not so much, but you three... I was positively delighted when you expressed interest in joining the Order.'

Suspicion pricked at Remus's senses.

'I think for James and...and...Sirius...it was more-'

For years, he had come to understand that for James and Sirius in particular, their flare for DADA stemmed from an inherent hatred towards the Dark Arts and an overwhelming desire to protect anyone threatened by them. And yet...

A cloud of confusion seeped into his mind, as it did every time he tried to fathom Sirius's reasoning for anything. And he hated himself all over again for trusting the man who had given him so much, only to take it all away in one long, violent moment.

'I am here to offer you a job, Remus,' said Dumbledore.

Remus was immediately snapped from his thoughts, eyes scrutinising Dumbledore's aged face, trying to find a hint of a joke.

'I'm sorry?'

'As you can imagine, given the track record of the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, there are very few willing to take it. I'm afraid it has gotten to the point where I must seek out applicants myself - advertising the position is no longer enough.'

Remus laughed humourlessly.

'Not that the prospect of stepping into a potentially cursed job doesn't thrill me, but having a werewolf amongst your staff would hardly do you any favours.'

Dumbledore stared at him, not a single emotion discernible in his expression.

'Arrangements have been made to accommodate that in the past, they can be made again,' he said. 'Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Binns remain on the staff, as does our groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid, and they are all aware of your condition and very much eager to welcome you back. As for the rest of the staff, I assure you that there will be no issue with your appointment.'

'I can't,' Remus said, rising to his feet. 'It's too dangerous. I can't risk-'

'The risk will be my own, Remus.'

Remus sighed deeply. How could he make him understand? It was different now. He had spent so long alone, fending for himself...he could not risk putting himself amongst so many people again. He was sixteen years older than he had been the last time he used the Shrieking Shack to transform. It was an old building - how sure were they that it would still hold him?

Dumbledore sipped from his cup again, gazing down into the warm liquid.

'You will be teaching Harry Potter,' he said. Something rose within Remus's chest. 'He is the spitting image of James. Save for his eyes; he has Lily's eyes. He is a wonderful child. Bright, funny...I dare say he inherited a little too much of his father's personality, but the head on his shoulders is more level than James's was at that age.'

He had not seen Harry since he was a baby. The memory of him was old, and hazy at best. All these years, he had found comfort in the knowledge that Harry was safe, he had not even entertained the possibility of ever seeing him again. It was selfish, perhaps; James would have wanted him to look out for the child, but the arrangements that Dumbledore had put in place served well...he had never met the Dursleys, but knew enough to know that his turning up out of the blue would not have went down well.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. Somehow, it made the decision even easier. There was no way he would put James's son at risk by transforming anywhere near him.

Dumbledore set down the saucer and now-empty cup that balanced on top of it before rising to join Remus on his feet.

'Perhaps I was foolish to believe that you would be so easy to convince,' Dumbledore said, strangely amused.

'I can't blame you for trying. And I will be forever grateful for everything you have done for me.'

'It is nothing, dear Remus, I assure you.' The old man spoke with much energy, suspiciously happy for a man who had been turned down. 'I must day, Professor Snape will be pleased...he was very much opposed to your appointment, this will come as somewhat of a relief to him.'

Snape?

'Snape is a professor?'

'Of potions.' There was a definite twinkle in his eye, as though he had won some game Remus had not been aware they were playing. 'He always was so talented at the subject - one might say even more so than Professor Slughorn. Managed to whip up a perfect batch of Wolfsbane potion just the other day.' Remus's heart almost leapt out of his chest. 'But he does not miss a trick...no sooner had he finished, he realised why I had asked such a thing of him. Can't imagine why he was so opposed to your joining the staff. Nevertheless, he agreed to provide you with an unlimited - free - supply of the potion should you accept my offer. He will be positively delighted to know that you do not feel up to the task.'

Silence. Neither of the men moved. Dumblefore knew exactly what he was doing.

'Wolfsbane?' Remus's potion-making skills were not quite up to the level required to brew such a concoction, neither was his financial situation, and he was unable to procure it through the Ministry without revealing and registering his true nature - an act that would cement his status as an outsider and make getting by even harder than it already was. But the desire to sample it, to see if it compared to the days of the Marauders, remained.

'As much of it as you need.'

He thought about it, temptation tugging at him, nudging away the doubts.

'Okay,' he said, his voice trembling. 'I accept.'

* * *

Remus had planned for an early night, but worry kept him awake. Though he had not spoken with Harry Potter since his departure from Hogwarts almost one year ago, Sirius had kept him updated on the increasingly mysterious events surrounding their friend's son. Whether it was Sirius's worry becoming contagious or his own growing larger through lack of direct involvement, he soon found himself eagerly awaiting each post-task owl.

He had moved again since leaving his teaching post, though only once. The futility was very obvious. New laws, new prejudice...he was no longer able to bluff his way through the interview process.

Eventually, he had settled into an isolated cottage, surrounded by farms and woodland, with a handy WWII-era bomb shelter in the garden - perfect for the full moon.

Two days had passed since the final task, and news was already spreading about the death of one of the contestants. For some reason, it was with bitterness that Harry's name seemed to be mentioned in articles, and the death continued to be referred to as a 'tragic accident', with no mention of the circumstances involved.

A sudden scratching sound caught his attention. The back door. It continued, as though something raked its nails over and over again against the wood.

Wordlessly, he clutched his wand, edging closer. The sound stopped, he could not see much out of the window. Cautiously, he opened the door.

There was nothing there.

Before he could open his mouth to call into the darkness, something pushed past his legs, something large and fast...and furry. He spun around quickly, brandishing his wand threateningly.

'Your welcomes really suck, you know that?'

Suddenly, Sirius Black was standing in his house.

Remus closed the door behind him before casting a glance outside.

'What are you doing here?' he hissed. 'If anyone saw you-'

'Give me some credit, Moony. I tied Buckbeak in the forest, came here as a dog. I'm not entirely reckless.'

A smirk twisted his words, and suddenly Remus was at his side, and they embraced each other as though more than a year had separated their last meeting.

'It's good to see you, old friend,' said Remus, punching him on the shoulder as they parted. 'That's for scaring the crap out of me.'

Sirius found his way to the settee and sat with his legs folded beneath him, taking in the tatty decor. He did not say a word. In fact, he blended in quite well. The worn prison robes made Remus's shabby get-up look almost pristine.

'Hold on,' said Remus, excusing himself. It could not have been comfortable to wear the same outfit for the last year - perhaps even the last thirteen, he doubted that the Dementors were any good with laundry. At least Sirius appeared to have washed his outfit (and his hair), for he smelled a lot fresher than he looked.

Remus emerged from his bedroom moments later, carrying a clean set of robes. They were not fashionable by any stretch of the imagination, but they were a lot less worn than the grey robes he wore, and did not scream 'convict' as much.

Sirius thanked him and began to strip off right there in the living room. Remus turned out of respect, but not before he saw the scars. There were not as many as the ones he possessed, and they were barely visible against his pale complexion, but they were there nonetheless. Two on his back - one long, one short - a few on his arms, and a thin one across his chest. Marks of the Order, of the First Wizarding War.

'Much better,' he said once the prison robes lay discarded. 'I feel almost normal again.'

And he looked almost normal too.

'So what happened?' Remus asked, the anticipation becoming too much to bear. 'The Prophet seems to be dancing round the details. How is Harry? what happened to him?'

Sirius fell back onto the settee sombrely. It was as though he had been reminded of some horrible truth, and he couldn't look his friend in the eye.

'He's back,' he said. 'Voldemort.'

Remus started, dropped to the floor in front of Sirius.

'W-what? How?'

'Wormtail,' Sirius spat viciously. 'The tournament was one big fix - a Death Eater charmed the Goblet, turned the cup into a portkey. Harry and the Diggory boy, they touched it together and it took them to... To him. He used Harry's blood to bring Voldemort back.'

His hands shook with anger. Remus did not know how to react. He pulled himself onto the settee beside Sirius and bowed his head.

'Are you sure?'

'I heard Harry's story, saw him right after...' Sirius's face twisted into an expression of pure rage. 'If I ever find that double-crossing scumbag, if I ever get my hands on him-'

'You better pray you're the first.'

They sat in silence for a moment, until both men breathed slowly again.

'He's not going to hurt Harry again,' Remus promised. 'If Voldemort is back, Dumbledore will have started to act already.'

'He has.' Again, Sirius seemed to remember a detail that had been forgotten in the joy of reunion. 'Asked me to track down what's left of the order. I found Figg and Fletcher, that's just about all that's left, save for Hagrid and Dumbledore himself, and they obviously already know. Mad-Eye too. You're the last. Dumbledore wants me to lay low here for a while...if that's okay with you?'

There was nothing Remus would have liked more, and he told him so. But the issue of how to survive remained. He could barely afford to feed himself, let alone the wanted criminal he was to hide.

'I'll feed myself,' Sirius said, seeming to sense his worry. 'We're surrounded by farmland and I'm pretty sure I saw some apple trees when I tied up Buckbeak. If you lend me your wand, I should be able to scrounge enough food for the both of us.'

Remus leaned back into the worn cushions of the settee. They had lost a bit of their bounce, but were comfortable nonetheless.

'If I can figure out how to get at my gold without drawing attention to the fact, even better,' Sirius continued, more to himself than to his friend. 'New robes. Going to need a new wand too. I suppose if Dumbledore gets someone in the Auror's office on his side - or if Mad-Eye can get back in there - I could get my old one back.'

Remus could not help but detect a measure of happiness to Sirius's voice.

'I suppose I could always go back to...my parents' place. Gather up some of the family silver, that's got to be worth a bit. I'm sure Mundungus would find a buyer.'

'Probably wouldn't give you a fair cut.'

'Yeah. Always wanted to throw that stuff out anyway, you know? It would drive my mother crazy.'

They laughed together, the familiarity of old times returning.

'I'm glad you're back,' said Remus. 'Even though I hated you for twelve years...life was rather dull without the Marauders.'

'Your life was dull without me, you mean?'

Remus smiled. Yes, life without his best friends had been very dull indeed. And now...at the start of a new war...he was glad that one was by his side again.

* * *

There was rarely anyone else at 12 Grimmauld Place outside of meetings. Tonks would sometimes hang around for a while, but juggling a full-time job and underground resistance obligations took up most of her free time. It was only Remus who stayed outside of official Order hours, owing to the fact it was now technically his home too. And he was glad that he was there when he could be. He knew what it was like to be locked away without company or companionship, isolated from the outside world. Perhaps he was the only member of the Order who truly understood what Sirius was going through.

It was late when he arrived that night, edging carefully past the portrait of Walburga Black. There were no sounds from within the house, save for the creaking of age. Even Kreacher was out of sight.

Soft snores drifted through the door of the drawing room as he approached, and he cast off his travelling cloak as he entered.

'Sirius?' he whispered, approaching the back of an elegant old settee. But he frowned as the figure slumbering upon it came into view.

Perhaps slumbering was not quite the right word to describe Sirius's condition.

He lay rather inelegantly on the sofa, long black hair splayed against his face. Near the hand that dangled over the edge an empty bottle of firewhiskey glinted in the firelight.

Remus swore under his breath and raised his wand to his friend's face. A gentle spell the the tip of his tongue, he cast it away in lieu of teaching the drunken idiot a lesson.

'Aguamenti,' he said, perhaps a little more forceful than he had intended. A jet of water shot out of the end of his wand and hit Sirius square in the face. Within seconds he was awake, spluttering and swearing.

'Does nobody have any manners anymore?' he grumbled, now seated and rubbing his eyes.

'Did you drink this all yourself?' Remus asked, waving the firewhiskey bottle before him.

'Remus,' groaned Sirius. 'Couldn't just let me sleep, could you?' He grimaced in pain, evidently worse for wear after his binge.

'I would hardly call what you were doing sleeping,' Remus chastised. 'You need to get a hold of yourself. You are a responsible adult, there are people depending on you.'

Sirius laughed bitterly, damp hair smoothed back out of his face.

'_Depending on me_? Who exactly is depending on me, Remus? I'm just another part of the furniture.'

'You are Harry Potter's godfather!' Remus roared, taking the other man aback with the sudden violence of his tone. 'You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You are thirty-six years old! Stop acting like-'

He cut himself off, watching his words bounce off the self-pity that sulked before him. And suddenly the picture became a lot clearer. Sirius was never the most mature individual, but he had only been twenty-two years old when he was imprisoned in Azkaban. Trapped inside his own mind for twelve years, without company, responsibilities or social stimulation...there was no room for emotion development or maturation. In many was he was still a twenty-something just trying to find a grip on life.

An overwhelming sense of pity fell over Remus.

Sirius glared up at him, probably would have rose to meet his gaze had he not so evidently been experiencing the after-effects of drinking a whole bottle of firewhiskey.

'I can't do anything for anyone,' he countered. 'All I can do is offer opinions in meetings, opinions so out of touch I doubt they're of any use at all. I'm trapped in these walls, I'm trapped in these memories...I may as well be back in Azkaban for all the good it's doing me.'

'Then walk out that front door,' Remus threatened calmly. 'Just take a stroll, as man or dog, it won't matter. Because that's what you're going back to if you're caught, and you truly will be of no use to anyone, least of all Harry.'

The low grumble that same from Sirius's throat told him he knew that he was right.

'Would anyone even realise if-'

'Oh, for the love of-' Remus threw his hands up in defeat. 'Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You think you've got it bad? What do you think I have been through my entire life? You have the possibility of absolution ahead of you. As soon as the ministry takes their fingers out of their ears it will be a matter of days before your story is proven true and you're back out there again. MY CURSE IS FOR LIFE!'

Sirius's eyes darkened and fell to the floor.

'I'm sorry, Remus, I-'

'No, you didn't think, did you?' Despite his anger, Remus took a seat beside his friend. 'You are not the only one going through a hard time. You think this is easy on Harry? Feeling as though he is not trusted? Feeling locked out? And now he is separated from the one person he has always been able to find comfort and advice in..._you_.'

Sirius seemed to contemplate his words sheepishly.

'Your advice was always better,' he said with a faint smile. 'I...I'm a bit of a failure as a godfather.'

'What makes you think that?' Sirius Black was indeed a reckless individual and that truth extended to his role as appointed guardian of James and Lily's son, but he would never go so far as to call him a failure. Sirius looked at him, as though he could not find the words to attach to the emotion. 'Do you love Harry?'

'With all my heart and soul.'

'How far would you go to protect him?'

'To unmeasurable lengths.'

Remus smiled.

'Tell me again how you are a failure as his godfather? You may not be winning any awards, but you care about him deeply, and he about you...that is the bond James wanted you to have. That is why he named you godfather. Because he trusted you and he knew you would love his son enough for him when he was gone.'

Shame. That was the expression that found Sirius next.

'Just go now,' he groaned. 'Let me wallow in this alone.'

Remus rolled his eyes.

'I'd have thought you've known me long enough by now to know that I'm not going anywhere.'

* * *

He had not seen the spell coming, but he felt it take hold, felt it knock him off his feet. The veil behind him fluttered as he fell back into it, and suddenly the sight was stolen from his eyes, and the breath from his lungs.

Everything was bright when he woke, perhaps too bright. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the softness of the carpet beneath him to feel unusual.

Sirius pushed himself up onto his elbows with less effort than he was used to expending. Slowly, the scarlet and gold colours of the Gryffindor common room swam into focus. What was he doing here?

The veil flickered back into memory, Bellatrix's spell knocking him back. Was the battle over? Why had they brought him back here, why not Grimmauld Place, why not even St. Mungo's if he was injured? At the very least, he expected the Hospital Wing, not the Gryffindor common room.

More to the point, why was he naked?

Just as he pondered this most unusual question, he caught sight of some robes on the chair nearest to them and pulled them over his head, wondering briefly where his scars had gone.

Rising to his feet, he realised that he was a little more muscular than before, that his hair felt tidier and, yes, his face felt considerably younger.

It was then that it occurred to him that none of this was real.

Then, the veil...it had knocked him out, drawn him into some hallucination. The alternative was too horrifying to consider.

'Harry.' The name fell from his lips. If he was here, then Bellatrix was still there, still dangerous. 'Harry!'

'Harry is fine.'

He did not turn at the sound of the voice. Because he knew those tones, would always register that sound, even after all these years. But if he was here, if they both were here, then...

Sirius turned towards the smiling face of James Potter, lounging casually on a chair by wall. He wore the clothes he had died in, wore the twenty-one short years that he had lived as well as he ever had. And Lily sat behind him, playing casually with a chess set.

Without another thought, he rushed towards his friend, crushing him in an eager embrace. James laughed sadly, holding just as tightly onto him.

'I missed you,' Sirius said desperately, as though his best friend would fade away at any second and the chance to tell him would slip away. 'So much, James, I...'

He met Lily's eyes as they parted, and made to offer the same welcome to her. But she smiled sadly at him, as though being there, looking at him, caused her a great deal of pain.

The truth sunk like a dead weight in his chest. _Dead_ weight. He almost laughed.

'Am I...?'

James nodded sombrely. 'The veil...it was a doorway between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I heard...I heard Harry's voice, heard yours. I couldn't see you, but...when you came through... There is no going back. It's a one-way trip.'

The strength left his legs and Sirius reached out to brace himself against the wall.

'But Harry...he's-'

'He's safe,' Lily said, rising to join them. 'We know when our loved ones join us and...it isn't his time.'

'That's why we're here, Padfoot,' said James. 'I hoped this day wouldn't come so soon.'

Funny how the truth did not seem to sting so much now. Death had not been so bad, and here he was with the brother he had chosen, the brother whose loss had haunted him for fourteen years.

'I am sorry about everything you went through,' James continued. 'Azkaban...'

How did he know?

'We know,' Lily said with a smile, as though she had heard his thoughts. 'It's difficult to explain, but...we never really leave, not really. We live on inside those we love, we watch over them.'

Sirius searched his surroundings again.

'I never thought death would look like this,' he chuckled.

'It doesn't,' said James. 'This is...a half-way point. Mine looked just like this too.'

'Half-way? So I can go back?'

'If you want to.' It was Lily that spoke this time. 'But you can't return to your life, nothing can make that so.'

'You have a choice,' said James. 'You can walk through that portrait hole and return to the world of the living as a ghost - a half-existence, never being able to sense or feel the way you once did. Or you can follow us up those stairs, to our world.'

Return as a ghost, watch the people he loves grow old and die, never truly able to join them. Or go with his friends, to watch over Harry and Remus as James and Lily had watched over them all. To wait for the moment they will reunite, never to be parted again.

'What is it like?'

Lily smiled as she tucked her arm into James's.

'It is...peace,' she said, a dreamy look in her eyes. 'Warmth.'

'And you'll be there too?'

'Mate, you're never getting rid of me again,' James laughed. And Sirius laughed with him. 'You've had a hard life, Padfoot. You deserve peace. You have been to Harry what we were never granted the opportunity to be...our gratitude is eternal. Come with us. Be at peace.'

His mind had been made up from the beginning. His life had come to its inevitable end. Of all the things one could put up a fight against, death was certainly not one of them. And it was not something he wished to fight. The liberation of death was almost welcome. Harry had Remus, he had Dumbledore, he had Molly Weasley. He would do well without him, better perhaps. There was nothing he could offer the Order as a ghost, and the prospect of an eternity on a lonely Earth frightened him more than death itself. Death...death was easy.

'Okay,' he said solemnly, shedding a tear for those he was leaving behind. 'Let's go.'


	3. Reconcilio

**AN - **Final chapter, I'm amazed at how quickly I've got this all out. Huge thanks to _c3llar door_ for the review on the last chapter! If you're reading, please let me know what you think! Feedback is always awesome :).

* * *

**Fidelius**

_3. Reconcilio_

There was a numbness he had not felt in years, crashing into him with every step that Harry took away from him. He could not even bring himself to move, to chase after him. Neville snuffled loudly at his side, wiping the blood from his face.

Sirius Black was dead.

'Professor,' said Neville meekly. 'Professor, are you okay?'

Remus tried to shake the film from his mind, but it clung as pain blossomed within. Now was not the time, he knew that, but in his mind's eye he saw his friend's body fall through the veil, over and over again, heard Harry's anguished cries, felt his own silent scream.

Kingsley rose unsteadily to his feet, his own weight seemingly too much. Mad-Eye continued to tend to Tonks as Kingsley lurched towards them, glancing momentarily where the Death Eaters were restrained.

'Neville...' Remus said weakly. 'The others...take me to them.'

Neville looked at him sorrowfully, seeming to work out that Harry was not the only friend of Sirius in that room.

'Dubbledore,' he said. 'Dubbledore-'

'_Episkey_,' Remus muttered, pointing his wand towards the boy's nose.

'Thank you,' said Neville. He wriggled his nose for good measure. 'Dumbledore went after him, he's in the best company.'

Remus smiled weakly at the blatant tip-toeing around the subject. Neville was not quite as unintelligent as his peers believed him to be; he knew that it was not Harry's departure that had affected him so.

'Let's go find the others.'

* * *

'Perfect timing,' said the healer who pointed him towards a bed concealed by curtains. 'She's been awake not ten minutes.'

Questions regarding her condition fell from intent as he took in the pleasant tone of the healer's voice; if she was indeed awake and that was all the witch saw fit to tell him then she could not have been so badly injured after all.

Remus trod carefully around the other beds, their inhabitants slumbering almost stubbornly.

She was pretending to be asleep when he slipped inside the curtains, half-opened one eye wearily to check the identity of the intruder.

'Oh thank goodness,' Tonks said, breathing a sigh of relief. 'Should have known those footsteps were too quiet to be Mad-Eye's. Not really in the mood to speak to him yet.'

Remus smiled as he carefully took a seat on the edge of her bed, trying not to notice the bruising on her arms.

'How are you feeling?'

'Better now you're here,' she said. And he looked away, pretending her words had missed him. Seeing this, she sighed sadly and shifted her position on the bed. 'They should be letting me out in a day or two. Just wanted to keep an eye on me. To be honest, I'm glad to be in here and away from the Ministry at the moment. Healer said something about chaos and anarchy...said they saw him...'

'They did.'

A semi-triumphant smile twisted her lips, but faded in the next moment.

'What happened? I was out cold, missed half the battle. Healer said they'd rounded up a load of Death Eaters...said someone had been killed.'

Remus faltered for a moment, and it was enough to betray the side on which the death had been.

'Who, Remus? Who was it?'

His voice caught horribly in his throat. He couldn't say it, couldn't speak his name. Then it would be final, then it would be true and he'd have to admit to himself that he was really gone.

And then he felt her hand on his, felt the comfort and strength that she offered him, even in her weakened state. And every reason why he had fallen for her flooded back to him. She truly was wonderful.

'Sirius.'

Remus watched the colour drain from her face, from her hair too. It grew limp and lifeless, a dull white against the blue pillow. Pain flickered behind her eyes. He was her cousin, after all. They may not have spent all that much time together, but they had started to get to know one another, had talked about a small family reunion when circumstances permitted it.

'How...how did it happen?' It felt that she did not want to know, but had forced her self, out of necessity, to ask.

'Bellatrix.' The name sent fury through his veins. First, she had injured Tonks, and then she had... 'The veil, he was standing right next to it and...'

What were the last words he had said to him? He couldn't even remember. He recalled Snape's message, recalled his demand for Sirius to remain behind and wait for Dumbledore. Sirius, of course, had not stood for that. Someone he loved was in danger, nothing short of death would have kept him from joining them. Remus had known that. He had also known that if Voldemort had planted such a memory in Harry's mind then he too knew of the connection between godfather and godson.

He recalled the house elf cackling suspiciously, recalled the others' futile attempts to persuade Sirius to remain. He remembered reassuring him that Harry could take care of himself, though it was not enough to drive the worry from his heart. They had ran through the corridors of the Ministry, had-

It came to him.

_'It'll be okay, Sirius.'_

His last words to his friend had been a lie.

A hand slid along his back, another wrapping around him, pinning his arms to his sides. Tonks had moved, and with her came a wave of warmth that broke the last of his barriers.

He moved an arm to return the embrace, but found that his limbs had grown rather weak.

Tonks seemed not to know what to say, and so remained quiet, holding him as though his life depended on it. In many ways, maybe it did. Because something about her touch chased the pain away and soothed the aching parts of him. It did not make anything okay, but it sure made it a little more bearable.

In that moment, he knew he had lost. His heart was filled with love; love for the friends he had lost, and for the woman that was there for him as the last star faded.

* * *

They had always expected Dumbledore to be around. Now that his body lay in waiting, nobody seemed to know what to do or what to expect. It was a major blow to the resistance, and a major blow to them. How long before Voldemort made his move, before he stepped out into the open and declared full-on war?

Remus straightened his robes - the one set he had with barely any signs of visible wear.

If Dumbledore had not been so kind to him, not looked past the wolf and saw the man...where would he be now? He would not have graduated from Hogwarts, would not have met his friends, would not have had a well-paying job for one year and been able to save enough that the last two were not lived in abject poverty.

He had found an old cottage not far from Hogsmeade, isolated and quiet. It served its purpose, now that he was no longer to call Number 12 Grimmauld Place home when not away on Order business, but he could not afford to stay there for long. Life amongst the pack he had been hiding in had become too dangerous - with Dumbledore gone and Ministry regulations tighter than ever, it was only a matter of time before they joined with Greyback.

There was a knock at the door and he called to allow entrance to the visitor. A little reckless, perhaps, but he was beyond caring.

'Kingsley said I'd find you here.'

He turned at the sound of her voice, a dull longing in his chest. Tonks had never looked so out of his league in her best robes, a smile shining through her grief.

'I'd have thought you'd be there by now,' Remus said. Tonks shrugged.

'I was worried about you.'

'I'm probably the last person in the world you need to be worrying about.'

'Are we really going to have this conversation again?'

He didn't know what else to say, and she didn't push the matter.

'Come here,' Tonks said. She took a step forward and tugged at the front of his robes before smoothing them over his shoulders. 'There, that's better.'

The silence that fell between them was awkward, so much remaining to be said but neither brave enough to touch upon it.

'I'm not ready to bury someone else,' Remus said at last, voice quiet enough that he wondered if she heard it at all.

There had been no body when Sirius had died, no closure. There had been a memorial service of sorts - a gathering of friends to solemnly acknowledge that a life had been lost and they were hurting for it. If there had been a body, would it have been easier? He almost laughed at the thought. They had buried Lily and James and there had certainly not been anything easy about that.

'This is war,' Tonks said quietly. 'We bury our dead and then we avenge them.'

Her point did not go amiss. They owed it to Dumbledore to push on, to never give up. He had saved Harry that night in the Department of Mysteries, had ensured that Sirius's death had not been in vain...they owed it to him to ensure that his own was not either.

'How long do we have?'

'Quite a while,' Tonks said. 'Half an hour at least before we need to apparate. Want me to make some tea?'

His hands had found her waist, and she did not seem to mind. What he really, truly wanted from her... Remus sighed. It was cruel that he should fall so deeply in love when he had so little to give.

Her hands had not moved from his collar, did not seem to want to move at all.

'You don't have to go through this alone,' Tonks said softly. 'Let me in.'

Let her in?

'You don't know-'

'I know perfectly well what I am getting myself into, thank you very much,' she said, almost angrily. 'You need to stop with this self-pitying. You deserve to be loved just as much as the next person. Even more so, since you seem to lack the ability to love yourself. I am not 'the rest of society' - I don't care who or what you are. I love you, Remus Lupin, and nothing you say or do will ever change that!'

Her hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks and her thumb gently traced the line of a lingering scar. Reservation held him back, but the feeling inside of him pushed him forward, told him that it was a risk worth taking. Because he was stupid to resist. Happiness he had always wanted yet never believed that he would feel...it was here, with her. She was willing to love him, to accept him for what he was...if only he would let her.

A gasp of surprise escaped her throat as his lips found hers, hands pulling her waist to his. She folded into his arms willingly, fingers finding his hair, tongue finding his. A warmth filled him like never before, and he found that he could not get enough of her; the way she tasted, the way she _felt_.

When they parted (with great reluctance on both sides), they stood in silence, forehead to forehead, noses touching, barely able to catch their breath. The world continued to spin, colours melting together. In that moment, all he felt was her, with him.

And that was enough.

* * *

'You're going to kill me? After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!'

_Lily was shaking, and there was a terrifying anger in James's eyes._

_'We'll never join him,' he said, voice trembling. 'It's insulting that he thinks he can persuade us.'_

_Two weeks later, Sirius limped into a meeting, bloody and bruised, and laughing his head off. He assured them that the Death Eaters who had extended the offer to him had come off much worse for wear. But still, the others had fawned over him, ushered him into a spare room and treated the wounds he shrugged off so casually._

_They came for Lily and James again, and again...they never bothered a second time with Sirius. And after the third time with the Potters, when James had defended his pregnant wife with a manic determination reminiscent of the Black on their side, they did not bother again with them either._

_And then...they came for him. Wormtail._

_So many had died, he knew that he was just waiting for his turn. They were powerful, would have killed him had he refused. And so, he accepted their protection. For a year he passed information to them, though the Order caught on fast. They began to restrict the exchanging of notes, so to speak, and soon all he could offer was vague snippets. But it was enough to ingratiate him, to invite the imprintation of the Dark Mark upon his arm._

_Every time their secrets spilled from his mouth, the guilt became a little easier to bear, until betrayal came second nature to him._

_And then, in July of 1981...the McKinnons were wiped out. Not a single member of the family remained._

_He struggled for a while, avoided meetings, avoided his fellow Death Eaters. They became angry, demanded more. They wanted to know where Lily and James were, but he held out, said they didn't tell him when they moved. It was only ever the Death Eaters to whom he passed on information, he was never worth the attention of the Dark Lord himself._

_Until..._

_It was autumn when Sirius approached him, told him that he thought it was a better idea if he would be the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius charm. And it was autumn still when the charm was performed...and barely a week later, he met with the Death Eaters again. But this time...he was there._

_'James Potter trusts Sirius Black like no other, my Lord,' said Bellatrix, a grim expression of glee upon her face. 'If they have performed this magic, it will not be Dumbledore who holds the secret, it will be Sirius.'_

_'Then you will bring Sirius Black to me,' said Voldemort._

_'My-My Lord,' stuttered Wormtail. 'T-The charm is so designed that the secret c-cannot be tortured out of the Secret Keeper. He must relinquish the information of his own free will. S-Sirius loves James like a brother. He won't betray them.'_

_'Black will speak,' said Voldemort. Bellatrix flinched at the use of her family name. Even after all these years, it still pained her to acknowledge relation to her younger cousin. 'Pain unlike that which he has ever experienced awaits him...and if he still will not speak, he will die.'_

_The red eyes met his, and unspeakable fear fell upon him. Bellatrix laughed, pleaded to be allowed to interrogate and execute Sirius herself. But Wormtail cowered in his own thoughts. James had explained what Dumbledore had told them...that if the secret keeper died, those to whom the secret had been divulged would become secret keepers. Voldemort did not know that it was he and not Sirius who fulfilled that role currently, but if Sirius died and he found out that Wormtail had been told..._

_'M-my Lord,' spoke Wormtail in a quivering voice. 'Sirius Black is not the secret keeper.' __Bellatrix made a derisive noise, but Voldemort held up his hand, waited for him to continue speaking. 'S-Sirius thought it too obvious, told the Potters to choose someone else.'_

_'Who is it, Wormtail?' Voldemort demanded impatiently. 'Speak.'_

_'M-me.'_

_Silence fell, before an icy demand drew the location from him. Even as the words fell from his lips, he felt nothing. They'd have died to protect him. And that is exactly what they would do._

Wormtail looked up into the almond-shaped eyes, and remembered the last time he had gazed into their ancestor's. She had looked at him with concern, hoping that he would be safe. And he had seen them again, not a week later, empty and stone-like, barely knowing that the life had been stolen from them.

They had given him so much, all of them. Who was he, after all? He was a nobody and he would have been nothing without them. And there they laid, dead because of his words, because of his fear and lack of courage. The only people who had ever treated him like a human being, who had trusted him implicitly.

And now he was about to kill their son.

His grip slackened on the boy's throat and he pulled away. Mercy his parents had never been offered. Mercy that struck fear into the heart of the cowardly man.

There was barely time to contemplate the regret, and the guilt of many years that came crashing back. The silver hand turned on him, grasped at his own throat. He struggled with it, and Harry did too. But it knew of his weakness.

The world turned to stars, glistening around. Light flooded his senses as pain constricted his airways, hands that both were and were not his own scrabbling at the silver instrument. Then, finally, Wormtail succumbed to his fate.

* * *

Remus gazed down at the infant in the crib, stroking a rosy cheek with the back of his fingers. He slept so peacefully, unaware of the state of the world he had been born into. His hair had changed yet again, mimicking his father's shade perfectly, minus the grey. The first full moon since his birth had passed and there was no sign of lycanthropy. Edward Remus Lupin truly was a miracle child.

Soft footsteps brought a weight to his chest and he stubbornly refused to turn.

'You're going, aren't you?' Tonks asked.

'I have to.'

She nodded when he glanced over to her, determined expression set upon her face.

'I'll get our cloaks.'

'No.'

She stopped, half-turned when his voice rooted her to the spot. Her shoulders sank in a sadness that almost persuaded him to stay.

'This isn't a matter of obligation,' Tonks said, turning back to face him. 'We chose this.'

'We chose family too,' Remus reminded her. He withdrew his hand from the crib and walked over to her. 'I would feel better knowing that you are safe.'

'And I would feel better fighting at your side!' She was determined, stood her ground in an astonishing display of bravery.

'This stopped being just about good and evil the moment Teddy was born,' Remus countered. 'This will be the battle that ends the war, whoever the victor. I swore that I would do everything within my power to protect both of you. Right now, that means insisting that you stay here and take care of Teddy.'

'But-'

'If we lose, children like him will be hunted. It's not just muggle blood that runs in his veins, remember? If we lose...he will need his mother to protect him.'

'He will need his father too.' Her expression changed, voice faltering. Then she pulled him into a tearful embrace, found his lips in a moment of desperation. 'There is no point in arguing with you, is there?'

Remus shook his head slowly, and more tears fell from her eyes.

'Then go,' Tonks said. 'Make us both proud.'

With trembling hands he pulled her into him, kissed her as though the chance would never come again. Now that the world could be nearing its end, he wondered why he had wasted so much time. They were at war, any day could be their last. Yet he had worried about a future that hinged upon one night...this night.

'I love you, Dora,' he told her. Her smile brimmed with happiness that defied her tears.

'I love you too. And I have faith in you.'

* * *

It was light, and the ground was soft. Was the battle over? Dawn appeared to have broken, and the sun seemed to fill the entire sky, bathing the forest in a brilliant white light.

The aches within his limbs had alleviated, and his wand was nowhere to be seen. There were no robes clothing his body and panic settled in. Had he transformed? It would explain why he was so far from the castle (not to mention so obviously naked). But it was not a full moon night. Had Voldemort developed some power to force a transformation? Had something happened?

The last thing he remembered was duelling Dolohov, and thinking that he was not moving fast enough. He was too out of touch with fighting. A curse had hit him in the chest, had knocked him clean out.

There were robes hanging from a nearby branch, cleaner and newer than he was used to. He slipped into them hastily. Anything for a little comfort.

No sounds hung upon the air, no distant battle raging. Perhaps it was all over.

'He hasn't twigged yet, has he?'

'Shush, he'll hear us!'

'Well someone's going to have to tell him - want to place bets on who that's going to be?'

'Was I that bewildered when I came through?'

'You looked no more stupid than normal.'

Whispered voices drifted from the light behind him. They were familiar, even in their hushed incarnation.

'Hello?' he said.

'I can't believe he's here...' A new, feminine voice joined the whispers and, slowly, three figures appeared from behind the trunk of a nearby tree. Yes, he knew those voices, knew those faces.

'Hello, Moony,' said Sirius, a sad grimace upon his youthful face. He looked not a day over twenty-two, as though the last fourteen years of his life and the stress that had come with them had not happened at all.

Beside him stood James, as youthful as his memory, and onto his arm clung Lily, as beautiful as always.

He breathed their names, realisation just out of reach.

'I don't understand,' he said. 'What- What are you doing here?'

They looked to one another, as though attempting to silently delegate an unpleasant task.

'I think a more appropriate question would be what are you doing here,' said James.

'Dolohov,' said Sirius.

'Remus, I'm so sorry,' said Lily.

Suddenly, it was obvious. That curse hadn't knocked him out.

Grief swept over him. He would never see his wife again, would not watch his son grow up.

'Teddy's alright,' said Lily. 'And he will be alright.'

'Congratulations, by the way,' James said with a smile.

Sirius walked over to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

'He's a good-looking kid,' he said. 'Good job he takes after his mother.'

'Doesn't that mean you two are cousins now?' James twisted his face in thought.

'So it does!' Sirius's youthful face darkened a little despite a brief moment of joy. 'Really wish there'd been a few more decades before we realised that.'

Remus was empty and lost for words. So many questions, and he did not think that there was an adequate answer for any.

'It's time to move on,' Lily said as she and James slowly made their way over to him. 'You know there's no going back.'

For the briefest of moments, joy flushed through his veins. He knew now what this place was - it was a resting station, so to speak, taking on the form of a place of high significance. And he knew why his soul had chosen this forest to make it's final decision. It was this forest he had wandered so many full moon nights with his friends. Even now, they remained some of the best days of his life.

'It's not so bad,' Sirius said with an encouraging smile. 'It's not life, but it's equally as wonderful.'

'And you'll be able to see Teddy again,' Lily said. 'We've watched over Harry all these years. We've watched over you, too.'

Slowly, carefully, he nodded. He was not afraid of death, though he did not appreciate the irony that his own should come when he had something to lose. All those years alone and cursed...it was not until a son had his father to lose, and a wife her husband...

There were footsteps in the distance, breaking twigs on the forest floor.

He wanted to tell the others how good it was to see them, but he could tell that they knew. Their deaths had never truly left him, least of all Sirius's, witnessed first-hand and still so fresh in his mind.

He looked up into the grey eyes of the man in question, but he stared over Remus's shoulder with a look of devastation upon his face.

Remus turned, and the pain of what he saw trumped dying.

'Remus?' Tonks's voice was soft and sad, and she seemed unable to move. 'No...no...'

Awareness of how different he must appear if Sirius had shed so many years, he raised a hand to his mouth.

'Dora...' he whispered. 'No, you...'

Tonks ran forwards and flung herself into his arms, crying on his shoulder before he was truly aware that she was there. She felt as solid as she ever had, looked just the same as the moment he had left her.

'I couldn't stay and do nothing,' she wept. 'I couldn't...'

He held her, painfully, desperately. He was dead and...and so was she.

'You shouldn't have come,' he said, though the words seemed hollow now. 'Teddy...'

'He's with mum. He's safe.'

They were lost in the moment, grieving for the loss of one another yet at the same time finding comfort in the arms of the deceased.

'I'm not liking this,' Sirius said, his voice shaking. 'I'm not liking this one bit.'

Tonks turned in his arms, pulled back enough to see the others, as though their presence had gone unnoticed.

'Sirius?'

'Hey, Tonks,' said Sirius, attempting a half-hearted wave.

'Let's hope no more are coming through,' James said.

Tonks looked to Remus and he smiled, forgetting in that moment just what this meant for them and selfishly revelling in the surprising warmth of her embrace.

'We should go,' Lily suggested.

'Where are we going?' Tonks asked. Her fingers gripped Remus's arms rather tightly.

'On,' said James.

Tonks nodded too, though she did not relinquish her grip. Remus wanted to ask how she died, to know who to blame for the young life that had been stolen. But it hardly seemed appropriate, and he wasn't sure that he cared at all. She shouldn't have been here either way. She should have died old in her sleep, surrounded by Teddy and their grandchildren. It wasn't fair that she should be here with him.

But she was. And it was hand in hand that they walked towards the light, following the others.

They had known their story must end one day, all of them. Remus wondered if they should have known that they would all die young. Yet here they were, together at last. Their story had come full-circle. In the face of tragedy, they had all been faithful to the end.

_~fin~_


End file.
